PyraPyra!
by jiitan
Summary: James's imagination... gets terribly out of hand.


**A/N: This is in no way a SERIOUS fic, if you think it is. GTFO. Cause if you flame me without reading this first, I'll know. Your blatant ignorance will be, well… blatant. Thank you and enjoy. **

_Side Note: There are spoilers. =D Kinda._

**Dedication:**** This is for Megan, who has waited on me ever-so patiently to even begin writing this. Thanks, Meggy. xD**

_Pyra-Pyra is copyright of Megan Clack. Pshawwwww. _

* * *

The dusky, ash-laden streets of Silent Hill were beginning to annoy Mr. James Sunderland. Sure, there were monsters lurking around every God-forsaken corner and yeah, his radio would not shut the hell up. But what was really getting too him? Second-hand smoke. James was not much of a smoker, though he dabbled in the occasional cigar, but this smoke was overbearing, brooding… and in ways malicious. It made him wish that he never read that letter, but it was from his wife, Mary; how could he not?

_Obnoxious broad... Even in death you still find a way to torment me. _He thought bitterly as he trudged along an open stretch of pavement, the scraping of his rusted, metal pipe against it mixing in with the drone and crackles of his radio made him completely oblivious to the fact that he was being stalked. Maybe it was fate, he murdered his wife via a pillow, so it only seemed fitting for him to be lopped in two by a red-helmeted beast and moved much too quickly for all the weight it carried. But, James was unaware of the impending doom, much like how he was unaware that he was going to be taking that small brat Laura out of this place with him. And thus, he marched on, a wounded soldier fighting a losing battle. Another bitter mumble escaped his lips as he shuffled down the street, but suddenly, he heard a noise. A high-pitched scrape, metal against metal, and he froze, idiotically dropping the metal pipe, his only protection.

"Is anybody out there?" He called out, still unaware of his looming demise. The scraping continued. He held his breathe. It was drawing closer. James fidgeted nervously, feeling the nerve endings in his legs to telling him to run like a little sissy, but did he run? No. For James Sunderland is a brave, strong, intelligent man who thinks a dinky metal pipe can out-match a massive butcher's knife, whose design vaguely resembled that of a spiky blonde-haired, angst ridden, hero's weapon of choice, but that is for another story.

"H-hello?" James called out meekly, kicking his foot against the pavement nervously.

_Shing!_

The sound of air being sliced was definite. James back-stepped, because you know, for some reason a man who thinks a metal pipe can take down Pyramid Head has the mental capacity to think of dodging an attack. James Sunderland then turned and began booking it, performing an unnecessary, stamina-draining hundred yard dash to find some sort of safe haven. Soon, he was out of breath and leaning against a wall he glanced behind him.

The sound drew closer, as if Pyramid Head were chasing him. That wasn't good, in fact, that was the farthest thing from good he could think of. And there were many things that weren't good: losing a bet, waking up the next morning realizing you've contracted some type of horrible venereal disease, running a red light, trying to bribe the cop that pulled you over for running the red light with doughnuts…

Yeah, lots of things.

But none of them held a candle to Pyramid Head.

**None. Of. Them.**

James ducked into a nearby alleyway and silently prayed that the lumbering monstrosity couldn't reach him in here, despite the fact that the alleyway was large enough for a semi-truck to fit in. He disregarded that fact and began pacing, waiting for his radio to chill. As he turned to leave the alleyway he ran face first into Pyramid's chiseled body, which was as equally awkward as it was mortifying. He jumped back and squealed, Pyramid head just stared at him…well, James thought he was doing that, but he wasn't entirely sure. He backed up, silently thanking whatever God he could think of that there was more room behind him.

_W-wait… He's just a figment of my imagination. I can just think him away. Yeah._ James squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of anything but the bloody butcher that stood before him. Quietly he began chanting various things to himself.

"Lollipops, kittens, playgrounds, birthday cakes, happy thoughts, go away, happy thoughts."

Pyramid Head groaned and stabbed his sword/knife thing into the ground, propping his elbow on the hilt. His hand began massaging his temple (does he even have those?) as he listened to James trying to wish him away. His hand fell away from his helmet and he stared (can he even do that?) placidly at James. James opened one eye, seeing that his chanting was unsuccessful. He howled in terror and turned, fleeing toward the end of the alley. Pyramid Head watched, quietly snickering to himself. There was a hoard of mannequins down there—wait… hoard of mannequins? He grinned and pulled his sword/knife thing out of the ground and trailed after James.

James had stopped dead in his tracks after seeing the double-legged mannequins.

"Okay, well, just fuck me." His eye twitched, clearly, this wasn't the best of people to be put in this kind of situation. He roared and pulled out his shotgun, blasting holes through the mannequins, blood (I'm just assuming these things bleed.) sprayed everyway, legs broke off and spun through the air, one in particular spun and made a nice juicy _splat_ against Pyramid Head's helmet. He glanced up and removed the leg, tossing it over his shoulder carelessly.

"Seriously, James?" He growled his voice was low and emotionless, though if he could have sounded angry he probably would have. James spun around screaming in rage and fear, firing off the last of his shells into Pyramid Head's shoulder. The beast staggered back and growled, raising his sword to retaliate. He stopped though. James knew something was wrong now, he dropped the empty shotgun and ran to the corner, cowering. His brief moments of rage and strength were gone and now he was sure he was going to die. Pyramid Head once again plunged his sword/knife into the ground and James peeked at him through his hands.

"D-did you really have to do that?" Pyramid Head complained, his voice no longer deep and scary, but rather whiny and…and it sounded a bit sad. James sat up, he wasn't sure whether he should be alarmed or run for his life. Or both. Pyramid Head placed both hands on his rusty helmet and shook his head. Was he crying?

"All I try to do is help you along your way and all you do is shoot me!" He sobbed, leaning against his sword/knife thing for support. James huddled back into his corner.

_Mentally unstable Pyramid Head is gonna kill me. Mentally unstable Pyramid Head is gonna kill me. _His eyes rounded and he began thinking of happy things again.

"And you know? I wouldn't even be here is _you_ hadn't murdered your wife! This is all your fault, Sunderland! I could be in Miami right now, a nurse in one arm and a mannequin in the other! I could be getting laiiddddd!" He wailed the last part before pounding a fist against his knife angrily.

_Happy thoughts. Kittens. Lollipops. Small children._

A giggle.

James's mind stopped processing. Pyramid Head froze. Their eyes locked on the small figure in between them.

Another giggle.

"Wh-what is that?" They said in unison, tilting their heads. The figure was a young child, six maybe seven. It was clad in a beat up dress, old blood smeared along its folds, and in its tiny hand it held a butter-knife, but this butter-knife looked like it could do some serious damage. From the long knotted hair and angelic features, James assumed it was a female creature, but what exactly was it doing here. Pyramid Head's hand was raised, his index finger trembling; that's when James noticed it, a small, rust colored pyramid rested upon the crown of her head like a tiara. He stood and picked up the small creature, examining her dirty features more closely. She giggled again and waved her arms up and down happily.

"Mama-Pyra!" She squeaked and James's jaw hit the floor. Her eyes danced over to Pyramid Head.

"Papa-Pyra!" She grinned and waved at him. Pyramid's jaw hit the floor. She then pointed to herself and wiggled in James's grip.

"Pyra-Pyra!"

James nearly dropped the creature; his brain could not handle this. Not at all. Pyramid backed away, yanking his sword/knife thing out of the ground, laughing nervously. James looked over at him.

"Hey! Hey! Do not leave me with our child!"

Pyramid Head paused, the sword/knife clattered to the ground.

"OUR _CHILD_? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

James paused, reflecting on the inquiry; although he thought the proper question should have been: What's right with you? But, in any case, neither had an answer. The small being known as Pyra-Pyra wriggled in his grasp again, becoming increasingly frustrated. James was not one to pay attention to this, instead, he mused over Pyramid Head's question until a searing pain brought him forth from his reverie quite abruptly. He couldn't vocalize the pain he felt, but he could see it, buried about twin inches into his skin was Pyra-Pyra's small butter knife. His eyes rounded as chemicals connected and the initial shock wore off, then he proceeded to wail in agony; this amused Pyramid Head and he found himself beaming (he can do that right?) proudly at his tiny offspring. James, however; was not as amused. He dropped the creature and skittered a good twenty feet from it before giving it the evilest of glares that he could manage at the moment. It just giggled.

"I'm leaving." James stated, gathering himself up as tall as he could he began striding past Pyra-Pyra and actually past Pyramid Head. He was quite surprised by this, but didn't bother to give it another thought and when he figured he was a good ways away, he booked it. Unbeknownst to him, however; blood dripped from his hand and formed a trail leading straight up to him and the dead end he had come upon.

"Well fuck me sideways." He cursed, falling to his knees in an over-dramatic manner; his hands flew to the sky as he cried out in anguish.

And then…

He heard it.

The irritating scrape of steel against pavement. His eye twitched as he got to his feet, a small pool of blood had formed beside him. Out of the mist walked two figures, one incredibly terrifying, and the other, not so terrifying, but still and irritant. James stared them down just like they do in those old western movies, his hand lingering by his hip as if to grab an imaginary gun. Pyramid Head stood before him, his helmet tilted to one said. It was James who destroyed the suffocating silence.

"This is madness!" He shouted. Pyramid tossed his head back and let out a loud, raspy laugh that reverberated throughout the towns abandoned streets. Pyra-Pyra giggled. Pyramid Head leveled himself with James and shook his helmet.

"Madness, huh?"

James's face drained of color. This conversation seemed vaguely familiar.

"THIS IS SILENT HILL!" Pyramid Head screeched before picking up Pyra-Pyra and launching her at James's face. She squealed and latched on to him, causing his balance to go askew; he stumbled back, attempting to pry the small being from his cranium. Her giggle was driving him mad as a hatter, but he could not shake her off. He continued reeling backwards until his footing slipped and gravity pulled him over the ledge of the destroyed street. Pyra-Pyra hopped off just in time and watched as James careened out of control through the fog.

Pyramid Head gave a nod of approval before scooting her along with the blunt side of his abnormally large butcher's knife.

"That'll do, pig," He said, sinisterly, glancing back at where James had once stood, "That'll do."


End file.
